Clan of the Red Oak
by Disturbed-writer23
Summary: A little something about the history of my character Romaver. The name comes from the first guild I was in on the realm Ghostlands, before I moved to an RP realm. I made a story about them. Please review so I know to do more!
1. Chapter 1

Clan of the Red Oak

Preface

_To all those who pick up this book; everything in here is truth, such as I can tell it. These events were secret, and occurred outside of the knowledge of anyone save those in the Clan, and the highest echelons of the the Kaldorei government. I tell you this; we were sanctioned by the High Priestess Tyrande, to be a secret force, dedicated to defeating whatever should threaten the Kaldorei way of life. For nearly ten-thousand years, we did so, unknown and thankless. But, thankless as it may have been, we were not bitter over it._

_Contained herein, you will find a story spanning thousands of years, and hundreds of people, of many professions, and walks of life. For many thousands of years, the Clan of the Red Oak stood as a secret barrier, defending the Kaldorei way of life and homeland from all that would seek to destroy it. Over the years, this included numerous demons, satyrs, the occasional black dragon, and, the Silithid. Though we were, for the most part, a secret organization, we would answer the call to join the rest of the army when it came. Thus it was that we became embroiled in the War of the Satyr, and the War of the Shifting Sands._

_I am Romaver Redoak, and this is the story of the Clan of the Red Oak._


	2. Chapter 2

Romaver stumbled as the world shook. Such quakes had been common since the Great Sundering, as the world reeled from the explosion that nearly shattered it. He looked up at the mountain before him, staring at the light shooting into the sky from the summit. _To think that Illidan would do that... after the last one nearly destroyed everything! _Romaver grumbled to himself. _A new Well of Eternity... just what we needed. _He sighed._I suppose I should be thankful to some degree. It does help sate my own addiction... _ The ground shook again.

Romaver waved to a nearby group of survivors, only to get cold looks in return. He sighed yet again. The surviving Highborne were not popular among the rest of the population. With good reason, he supposed, but it was still a little vexing. He walked on, slowly ascending the mountain. The road he was following barely earned that title. It was little more than an animal trail really, but it would eventually take him to the main road, and from there he could ascend to the camp up near the summit.

Romaver stopped to run his eyes over the mountain. This sacred mountain, Mount Hyjal, which had survived the Sundering, where many other lands had been blasted into the sea. The ground shook again. _Will these blasted quakes ever end? _ He wondered if there was perhaps some power here, that protected the mountain. He looked up at Azeroth's two moons, his focus falling upon the largest, the White Lady. Shaking his long blue hair from his face, he stared at the moon. Many an elf had done so in these past weeks. All looking for guidance from Elune, their goddess. With a mental prayer, he turned his attention back to the path, and resumed his journey.

He desired to get there before the night was over, to make his report to the Sisterhood. Not that it mattered much, but he wanted it out of the way. He had made the same report several times before, but always they sent him out. He suspected they just wanted to be as far from the remaining Highborne as they could get, so they sent him and his fellows out. And they went, if only to be away from the lower caste.

He passed another group of people, Highborne this time. He waved at his fellows and got a nod in return. Well, it was better than the frigid look the rest of the Kaldorei offered him. He continued along the path, wishing not for the first time that he had his trusted night saber, Keishan with him. She had died when his father brought down the stables on top of her and several of the servants. _Curse him! One of the best things I ever did was removing his twisted head. _

Romaver fumed to himself, not paying attention to his surroundings. This proved to be a bad idea, as he smashed into someone coming the opposite way on the path. With a loud oath, both fell back. Romaver glared at the one who had bumped into him. "What in Elune's name is wrong with you?"

The other person, one of the few kids they had with them, shrank before the heated gaze. "S-sorry sir! I-I w-was just..." He trailed off...

Romaver cringed as he saw it was a child. _Elune what have I done? _His gaze softened. He stood and then hauled the child to his feet. "I am sorry, child. I have erred. Can you forgive me?" To sweeten the deal, he pulled out a few sweet berries he had found. "Here, an apology gift." He held them out to the child.

The child looked into Romaver's face, suspicious, and then eyed the berries. Tentatively, he reached out to take them. When Romaver didn't pull back, he snatched the berries and tasted one. Finding it sweet, he devoured the rest. "Thank you, sir." He smiled, eliciting a smile from Romaver in return.

"You are welcome. Now, run along with your errand." With that, Romaver stepped to the side and let the child run on along the path. He reflected over what had just happened. About his little outburst in the beginning. That temper had gotten him in trouble before, and it appeared it would in the years to come too. He gave a vexed grumble before continuing along. _That blasted temper is going to get me killed someday. I just know it._

Romaver continued along the path for some time, quiet, occasionally moving to the side to allow someone to pass on some errand. The Sisterhood always had errands they wanted done, and people were always willing to help. Sometimes he marvelled at how quick they were able to take up the leadership of the people. He supposed part of it was the fact that the Sisterhood was one of the few organizations that survived the Sundering, and people were tired of Highborne rule. He himself was tired of Highborne rule, and he was Highborne! He had no problem taking order from the Sisterhood, not at all. They had proven more effective leaders these past few weeks than the Highborne ever had.

The ground shook. Romaver blinked. He hadn't felt a shake for quite some time. Maybe things were finally starting to calm down? Only time would tell. He stepped out onto the main road, having finally reached it. This was much larger, and more beaten down by the feet of the people. It connected several other camps to the one he stayed in, so it saw much more use that the one he had just been following. He looked to the north-east, his eyes following the road. Not much longer now and he would be at Priestess Sylvaria's tent, delivering his report. Then, he could get something to eat and head to the tent he shared with two other Highborne. He wasn't best pleased with sharing a tent, but everyone had to, even the Sisterhood. There just weren't enough tents for everyone.

Romaver walked along the path in silence for the remainder of his journey. He made it all the way to the camp before feeling another quake. _Things must be beginning to settle finally. I'm sure of it. _Romaver entered the camp, and looked around. There were Kaldorei clustered around several small fires, and a larger one off to the side, where the cook prepared what meager rations were available. Things had not been easy since the War. Large tracts of land had burned, and the animals that lived there slaughtered. The Burning Legion had not spared anything. If it crossed their path, it burned and perished.

Romaver headed to the largest tent, which served as a command post for the camp as well as housing for the Sisterhood here. He stopped at the entrance and waited for the guard to announce his presence. One of the first things the Sisterhood had done once gathering up the survivors had been to establish a new armed force to serve as protectors for the remaining survivors. For reasons known only to the Sisterhood, most of those recruited were women. Men, instead of serving as guards, were tasked with various tasks to build and maintain the camps. There were exceptions on both sides. Some men served as guards, and some women served to maintain the camps.

Romaver entered the tent, having been given the go-ahead by the guard. Once inside, he had to stoop slightly being a tad too tall for the tent. Standing before Priestess Sylvaria, he made a deep bow and received a dip of the head in return.

"Ishnu'alah, Romaver. What have you to report?" The Priestess's eyes bored into Romaver's

"Nothing different than the last report. Though most of the Legion was pulled back through the portal when it was destroyed, some yet remain, hiding in the wilderness. Food is still scarce, there is still no sign of the dragons, and there is still the occasional straggler coming along the roads to the camps."

Priestess Sylvaria sighed. "I'll make sure the guards remain vigilant. Thank you for your service, Romaver." She inclined her head, but nothing more. He took it as his dismissal, and turned to leave. "And Romaver... try to keep your fellows out of my hair. They will not quit pestering me! They come to me with all sorts of little complaints! 'My tent is too small.' 'I have to sleep around commoners!' 'My silk robes are ruined!' IT'S DRIVING ME INSANE!" The Priestess stood there and seethed with irritation.

Romaver nodded slowly. "Aye... I will do what I can, Priestess." He gave a bow, and then left. Stepping outside, he frowned over at the small cluster of tents that housed most of the Highborne. "Fools, all of them!" He growled in irritation. The guards eyed him warily. As they did to every Highborne that came near. That too earned a small growl, before he stalked off towards the cluster of tents.

One of the elves looked up as Romaver approached. He started to smile, but it quickly fell away at the sight of the thunderhead brewing on Romaver's face. He stood. "Ah, uhm, Lord Starwhisper, is something wrong...?"

"Sit down, Lord Greenwood, and be silent." The other man took his seat and watched as Romaver went around and poked his head into each of the tents, gruffly demanding the inhabiting elves to come out. Grumbling, they came, until all the Highborne were gathered into the clear space before their tents.

One elf, rather short, with pinkish-purple skin and a shock of green hair, glowered at Romaver. "What is the meaning of this, Lord Starwhisper? I was just getting... ready to..." He trailed off at the glower that Romaver was directing at him.

"The meaning of this, Lord Moonshadow, is simple. Priestess Sylvaria tells me that you are all being a major pain in her rear. This is to stop. Now. No more going to her with every little complaint." Delivered calmly enough, the speech still dripped with a hidden menace. "If I hear of one more of you going to her to complain about a bloody hangnail, I'll personally beat you senseless. Don't think I can't." And he could follow through with that. He was tall, muscular, and more than a little threatening.

Lord Moonshadow spluttered. "Now, you listen here you little upstart! I am your elder, and I demand to be treated with the respect due to a man of my station!" He stood, fuming. "I don't know what makes you think you are the new king or whatever, but you can't go ordering us around. Isn't that right, Lord Greenwood?" Lord Greenwood, an average-sized elf, with light blue skin, and darker blue hair, remained silent and looked to the ground. "Lord Springleaf?" A purple-haired elf exchanged glances with the rest of group. They all shook their heads. "No... No one will stand with me?" The short elf wilted, and sagged down to the ground.

Romaver watched impassively. "Then that is settled. No more trips to the Priestess for every little thing that inconveniences you. Actually, it is better you avoid the Priestess completely. Understood?" At their silent nods, he smiled. "Good. Be about your business, then." Another glare for Lord Moonshadow, then Romaver walked off.

Calmly walking back to his tent, Romaver thought over what just happened. _Strange, that they should follow me. They are all older and more experienced. _He caught a glance of his arms. _Perhaps that's what got them. They might be older, but I'm the strongest physically, since we are forbidden to use our magic._


End file.
